Georgia Landscape 35th
2014 Anniversary
75, 35, 30, 10: Building on a Solid Foundation
George Orwell, the famous author of 1984 and Animal Farm, once asked, “What can the England of 1940
have in common with the England of 1840?” He followed up with a second question and his answer “But then,
what have you in common with the child of five whose photograph your mother keeps on the mantelpiece?
Nothing, except that you happen to be the same person.”
And so it is with the College of Environment and Design (CE+D). Our
heritage is an essential part of the fabric of the University of Georgia, the state,
the nation, and the professions we serve. Like Orwell suggested, our programs are
historic and advanced at the same time. This is the perfect year for us to reflect on
our past, comment on the present, and envision the future.
Because the Founders Memorial Garden is 75 years old, we are celebrating its
beauty and utility as a teaching garden, as well as the conceptual underpinnings
that inspired its construction. It was 35 years ago that this award winning
publication, Georgia Landscape, ran off the presses for the first time. The
interview with Bill Thompson found herein sheds light on those early years and
the publication’s significance. The Environmental Ethics Certificate Program that
CE+D administers for the entire University is celebrating 3o years of facilitating
an interdisciplinary dialogue and offering courses on the essential importance
of extending our ethical standards beyond humans to the natural world and
our relationship to the earth. And it was 10 years ago that the Jackson Street
Cemetery, sometimes known as the Old Athens Cemetery, was officially deeded
to the University of Georgia for care and stewardship. The College was named
the budgetary and development home for the historic parcel which dates back to
1810. We take our responsibility in stewarding CE+D’s amazing heritage very
seriously.
The relationship of past to present is found in numerous places throughout
this issue of Georgia Landscape. From an article on oral histories to reflections
on the beauty and utility of our historic Jackson Street Building, the authors
connect timeless lessons to our current conditions. “Peeling Back the Layers”
applies contemporary techniques to understand the strata of time found within
2013 GA|ASLA
Honor Award Recipient
the walls of a historic building in Old Salem, North Carolina. We are also intent
on holding firm to longstanding strengths of our programs as indicated by the
articles on “Planting Design” and “Sketching the Landscape,” but in a way that
merges heritage with contemporary perspectives and the latest methods.
When Winston Churchill wrote, “The farther back you look, the farther
ahead you are likely to see,” he commented on how such deep reflections on
the past can help move communities of people forward. Other articles in this
issue take those important next steps of moving forward. For example, “Cane
Crusades” and “Backyard Diversity” apply the ethical standards discussed above
to real world situations. “Lessons from the Land” is an outstanding example of
Past meets Present for the benefit of the future, because many of Joel Salatin’s
radically effective methods have been time-tested by farmers throughout the ages.
The fine piece on therapeutic gardens moves beyond anecdotes such as “nature is
healthful” into the realm of “evidence-based design.”
This issue of Georgia Landscape reflects the wonderful energy and enthusiasm
that is alive and well among CE+D students and alumi. I wish to personally
thank all the writers who contributed articles and each student who served on the
Georgia Landscape Committee for your success in creating an outstanding student
led and produced publication. To the readers of Georgia Landscape, I reach out
with an invitation; please come visit us to see such energy firsthand. At the end
of the fall semester 2013 we completed a very successful vertical charrette on the
Atlanta Highway project, which you can read about in this issue. We now expect
that enthusiasm to continue as we hold our comprehensive Jury Week at the end
spring semester 2014 (April).
»Daniel Nadenicek, Dean
College of Environment + Design
Our heritage is represented by five CE+D deans who came together at our annual holiday party in December 2013. From left to right: Scott Weinberg, Jack Crowley, Bob Nichols, Darrel Morrison, and Dan Nadenicek
2014 Georgia Landscape
1
Table of Contents
Cane Crusades
Thomas Peters
Sketching the
Landscape
Thomas Baker
Georgia Landscape 2014
Thinking
Outside the Grid
Agustina Hein
Liza Taylor
Staff
Structured
Flexibility
Lessons from
the Land
GL Staff
Melissa Tufts
Allen Pratt
2
Editing the
Written
Landscape
Brian Lahaie
Faculty Advisor
Melissa Tufts
Faculty Editor
04061014
16 20 4
2830 32
37 40 46
Inspired by a
Building
Words to
Recover the Past
Laura Duvekot
Shruti Agrawal, MEPD 2014
Photography
Kiley Aguar, MLA 2015
Photography
Kit Candler, MHP 2014
Copy
Renee Dillon, MLA 2015
Layout Editor
Emily Hunt, MLA 2015
Assistant Editor
Ting Li, MLA 2015
Layout
Emma Liles, MLA 2015
Layout
Russell Oliver, MEPD 2014
Photography
Manasi Parkhi, MEPD 2014
Layout
Katherine Perry, MLA 2016
Copy Editor
Sig Sandzén, MLA 2015
Editor-In-Chief
Jacob Schindler, BLA 2016
Digital Editor/Copy
Daniel Sizemore, MLA 2015
Layout
Dixi Wang, BLA 2014
Layout
Tianchi You, MLA 2015
Layout
Bryan Zublasky, MLA 2015
Copy
Peeling Back
the Layers
Jason Aldridge
Planting Design
Backyard
Diversity
Andrew Bailey
Thomas Baker
Lindsey Hutchison
Vertical
Charrette
Graduate
Workshop
GL Staff
Byron Brigham George
2014 Georgia Landscape
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Inspired by a Building
For Paul Cassilly
The truth of the matter is I have never been enamored of
modern architecture: too cold, stark, and usually white, with
no curious details inviting inquiry. Especially here in the Deep
South where the past was once so much with us, a past which
was often seductive and rarely completely honest, the distilled
power of the vision of mid-century modern buildings was often
overlooked. But now I find myself spending half of my waking
life in a modernist building, and even though I am tied to a
desk and a computer, my sensibilities have been awakened in
surprising ways.
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Georgia Landscape 2014
As one who has spent most of her life trying to be outside, both as a gardener and
as someone simply more at home out-of-doors, the prospect of working indoors
might have been a terrible fate. But the Jackson Street Building, like a lot of modern
architecture, seems thankfully aware of its setting and, drenched in natural sunlight
in my office, I sense we are among the lucky ones. Is it odd that it took being inside
the building to appreciate the building’s respect for what is outside of it?
Each day I offer up a little prayer of thanks to Joseph Amisano as I climb the
stairs to the rear plaza and then walk across to the building’s Big View entrance,
grateful for his vision of the piedmont to the east and a building that asks us to
look out. It is fitting that design students (initially students of the Lamar Dodd
School of Art and now the College of Environment and Design) have been able
to call this building home. Unlike the traditional buildings of the North Campus,
which all face inward onto the elegant quad, this building welcomes a visitor at the
street level and then quickly shapes his or her experience outward and down to the
Oconee River and the piedmont beyond. Views of the tree canopy of tulip polar,
river birch, oak, maples and even the occasional sycamore create a curtain of green
that floats like a hem on the skirt of the expansive eastern sky.
While North Campus is enclosed and enveloped—nurturing the interior sense
of our university community but essentially turning its back on its surroundings—
this building seems to sit on a ledge, projecting our attention, and perhaps our
design vision, into the larger landscape and world. Both architectures have their
own beauty; both serve equally inspiring purposes. But the experience of Place is
vastly different.
Inside, the dramatic barrel-vaulted hallway demands that we think big. Light
and air move and change throughout the day, shape-shifting the spirits of the
artists and designers at work. The building is at its best when it is spare, devoid
of accoutrements and decoration. We can literally see our way to solutions and
variations on design ideas because we can so easily See our way around and through
the studios. There is little that is superfluous, which gives the building a timeless
calm. Its frugality is its beauty and this frugality has its advantages for students
interested in trying to see things in a different “light.”
Stand at the cross axes intersection at day’s end and you’ll find images of artwork
hanging in the Circle Galley reflected in the doors to the main stairway. This is
a designer’s dream: to be able to experience elements in our physical world from
different perspectives throughout the day. And the discoveries can be thrilling, like
when you were a child gazing into a placid pond at the reflected trees and wondering
if it was possible to fall up.
So how does this change how I work? In addition to not having to turn on lights
in my office, it makes me want to keep my thoughts focused and distilled; detritus
doesn’t build up in my office or my head. For once in my life, I am using the
filing cabinets for the purpose they were designed. Dust doesn’t gather on stacks of
unresolved problems. The tasks of the everyday experience of work seem somehow
more lighthearted. In short, the building itself is encouraging me to be organized,
open, and willing to reflect on emptiness not as an existential horror, but rather a
contemplative relief from chaos.
We are working in a building being used for its designed purpose: enlightened
thought, exploration, and contemplation of our (humans’) place in the natural
world. Of course it is the people who inhabit this place that really get me off the
farm each morning; but it is the building and its aspect so carefully considered by
the architect that keep me on task. There is a rightness and dignity about the size
and proportions of the critique space, the library, the gallery, and, of course, the
barrel-vaulted hall. A building that inspires us to design—what more can we ask of
our architects?
»Melissa Tufts
All photos by Kiley Aguar
2014 Georgia Landscape
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of Georgia Landscape is the educational process for the
people working on the magazine, so I would look for
opportunities to broaden my horizons and learn from
others who are doing similar things.
Editing the Written Landscape
An Interview with Bill Thompson
As a founder of Georgia Landscape and former editor-in-chief of Landscape Architecture Magazine, Bill Thompson’s
commitment to encouraging landscape architecture critique and discourse has been a consistent theme throughout
his adult life. As Georgia Landscape marks its 35th anniversary, Thompson chats with our staff about magazines,
both big and small, and their role in the profession.
Sig Sandzén: Bill, tell us a bit about the early days of Georgia Landscape and its
founding in 1979. I believe you served as copy editor that year, then took over as editorin-chief in 1980?
Bill Thompson: It was Peter Dry—1979 editor-in-chief of Georgia Landscape—who
had the initial idea, and then he talked to some of us about it. I had actually started
a small magazine in New York City when I was working with some underprivileged
communities in Harlem. I really liked pulling together the magazine and working
with the people and the writers. I had enjoyed all the aspects of being involved with
that magazine, so helping Peter start Georgia Landscape was really natural for me.
There were three or four of us, and Peter was definitely the leader for the first effort.
I was part of a team. I don’t remember how long it was before I took over, but my
biggest contribution was applying for and receiving a National Endowment for the
Arts grant to fund the production of the magazine. It was a very low budget for a
publication, but writing the proposal and having it accepted was kind of a boost to
our self-confidence.
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Georgia Landscape 2014
What was the general format of the publication while you were involved with it from
1979-1981?
You probably noticed from reading the magazine that it was more of a newspaper
format. We were publishing Georgia Landscape on a shoestring budget and trying
to publish as many issues as we could from that original grant. We went with very
inexpensive newsprint, a local printer, and so on.
I noticed that the opening for the 1979 issue included guidelines for the landscape
magazine. It stated that it would be a linkage between professional and scholarly
practice, which is a strong standard to establish. Were there any other specific goals that
you set out to achieve with the publication, as a group or individually?
In hindsight, one thing I think could further a student publication towards the
goals that we initially set would be to reach out to other universities in the Southeast
and really work with students and faculty, allowing the publication to be less
Georgia-focused and more regional. Much could be gained from talking to the
staff of other publications and finding out what works for them and what they’d
avoid, and start sharing and learning from one another. To me, the biggest benefit
Do you remember any specific pressing issues from that
time, on which you and Georgia Landscape’s other
founders wanted to focus your research and writing? I
noticed an article in the 1979 issue about the then-new
Caldwell building, critiquing the building’s placement
and design as the home of a design college.
Looking back on the piece that Peter wrote about the
Caldwell building, I think it was a good model for
a student publication to take on a professional issue
and actually criticize practicing architects or landscape
architects. It took a lot of guts for Peter to write
that, because he knew the campus architect and was
critiquing his design. But I think it’s a positive example
for Georgia Landscape or any student publication to be
able to speak out.
Absolutely. A student-run publication has specific freedoms
that professional publications don’t, and using these in a
way that benefits readers is very important. Turning to
the magazine’s design, what was the process of creating
something as simple as a two-image layout? As a student
body that works heavily in the digital realm, it would be
interesting to hear the process of laying out and organizing
the publication by hand.
We hired a local graphic designer to help us with that,
someone who actually had done similar publications
many times. We worked with her for a small fee. It
was definitely the old-fashioned way; there were zero
electronics involved.
How do you think the experience of heading a studentrun publication helped prepare you for your time at
Landscape Architecture Magazine (LAM)?
I do feel that the basic orientation that I learned from
Georgia Landscape really served me well, even though it
was very grass roots. It was a simple little publication,
but it was still a good foundation for working for a
professional magazine. It was a very exciting initial
transition that kind of started off running, and 20
years later, there I still was at LAM.
When you eventually took over as editor-in-chief of LAM
in 2000, how did you hope to change the way that the
magazine was experienced by readers?
Basically, I wanted to turn it back toward the
profession. When I started as an editor, I worked for
about 10 years with other editors who came from
outside of the profession and really didn’t understand
the ins and outs of professional landscape architecture
practice. What I wanted to do was turn back toward
the profession and try to address the issues, scales,
and learning curves that landscape architects need in
their practice. That was really my main goal…give the
magazine back to the profession.
I’ve read that one of your primary goals was to increase the
quality of writing in our profession and establish LAM
as the profession’s best resource when it comes to realized
design. How did you approach this objective to create the
best opportunity for LAM’s success?
I wanted to find landscape architects all over the
country who were interested in writing and kind of
incubate them, help get them published, and build
up a team of writers that really knew the profession.
I wanted to find potential writers who knew how to
look at projects the way landscape architects look at
projects—new technical issues, software, materials,
methods of building, and construction of landscapes—
and get them writing. My goal was actually to have
75% of each issue written by landscape architects. In
most months I think I got that, even though it was
not as easy as I’d thought it would be. And I even
encouraged and got a few students writing, so that was
a good thing.
Do you have a specific opinion about what makes a good
writer or editor, or the keys to progressing that craft within
our profession? How would you suggest a current student
improve his or her writing?
7
Georgia
Landscape,
Fall 1979
2014
Georgia
Landscape
Georgia Landscape, Spring 1980
Georgia Landscape’s 1979 Call for Submissions
Georgia Landscape is managed, edited, and produced
entirely by students. Students have provided the inspiration,
made the decisions, and ground out the work.
Georgia Landscape, though a school publication, was
not born in a classroom.
We address the issues that matter. We want to advocate
good design and ecological planning, and serve as a forum
for the expression of heartfelt opinions representing every
point of view.
Our strength is in our regionalism. Our scope of
interest spirals outward from Clarke County to the Georgia
piedmont, the entire state, the region, the country, the
continent.
We want to inform the public on issues of environmental
quality and good design.
We want to serve as a bridge between disciplines.
We want to be a showcase of design projects.
We want to serve as a medium of communication
between schools.
In the future we hope to be able to broaden the scope of
contributors to include alumni, related professionals, and
professors and students from other schools engaged in the
pursuit of environmental quality.
8
Georgia Landscape 2014
The trouble with writing is that you have to find
outlets, and publication outlets, and those are hard to
come by. I think Georgia Landscape is a great outlet,
and one should begin there. Then I’d use that as a
springboard for other possibilities, like some of the
professional magazines. Like I said, when I was at
LAM I encouraged students to write for the magazine.
After publication in a student magazine, I would set
professional publication as the next goal, and talk
to some editors about how to actually get an article
considered, what the writing guidelines are, and so on.
It’s key to continue writing and to find outlets, and
there’s nothing like being published.
I think it’s encouraging that you wanted LAM to be a
magazine where we openly and honestly critique each
other’s designs to progress the profession, rather than just
putting a gold star on the newest, most expensive design
out there.
After seeing and walking around ASLA award-winning
designs around the country, I would often wonder how
the site had won an award to begin with. I was visiting
a site in Miami once, and had seen photographs that
were actually beautiful, taken on opening day. I was
down there maybe a year or so after it was opened, and
it was populated by drug sellers. The site had started
looking very dingy, because the city was not keeping it
up. I was looking at a place that had failed. From that
experience I got the notion that before we give awards
we should send someone out there to actually look at
the project and make sure it’s as pristine as it looks in
the photographs.
It could be more along the lines of Major League Baseball.
If a player retires, they have to wait five years until they
can be admitted into the Hall of Fame. It would be good
to wait and see exactly how a project is used within that
specific time frame. The concept can be great, but if it’s not
being used, how much of a success is it, really?
Exactly.
Going back to LAM, running a production like that
requires organization and consistency in management.
During your tenure, were there any consistent battles that
you faced each issue, with magazine deadlines coming
down to the wire?
I’m not really an organization guy, so I hired a good
managing editor that made sure that the in-house
organizational part of production happened. My
expertise was in dealing with text and images, creating a
story, and working with the writers and photographers
to actually get the best out of everyone.
So you got to do all of the fun things?
Exactly—but those were the things that I was good
at, so I have no regrets. I did the things that I was
best at and let others do the things that played to their
strengths.
One of the largest issues of dealing with any group of people
in a profession is continually keeping them motivated.
How did you keep the staff at LAM motivated to deliver
a high quality product every month?
Because LAM was primarily run by writers all across
the country, the biggest challenge was to keep those
people motivated, rather than the in-house staff. I
was working with people in California, Washington,
Massachusetts, and even internationally. The
continuous challenge was really staying in touch with
those people, making sure they got paid and making
sure that we worked with them sensitively in editing
their pieces, so they didn’t feel that we were just
running over their golden words. We were working
with them to bring out the best in their writing. There
was much back-and-forth between the writers, such as
“Well, this could probably be said more clearly. What
if we say it like this?” We involved them with some
of the layout issues, photographs, plans, elevations,
sketches, and so on. Letting the writer stay involved
was key.
It’s a delicate dance. Keeping them involved and happy
with the end product—that’s a complicated process.
What are some of the more difficult decisions you faced in
producing each issue?
the landscape architect needs to learn from the project
being represented to improve his or her own practice.
One that pops into my mind is the often tricky tradeoff
between text and graphics or photography. Sometimes
a strong art director can create a beautiful layout that
he thinks is spectacular—and it is spectacular—but it
doesn’t really fit with the text. One of my big pushes
was that the text and the layout really had to lock in
together. Sometimes an art director won’t see it that
way, because he wants to make a statement with his
gorgeous layouts, and I’d have to say, “That’s good, but
it needs to work with the text.”
Aside from the need for stronger writing, do you have
an opinion on the most evident weaknesses or challenges
that face our profession today? Do you feel that there are
any specific aspects that students of landscape architecture
should be considering, but may not be, while working on
their bachelor’s or master’s degree?
One issue I’ve noticed is the tendency of LA’s to be
jacks of all trades, and to set up practices that do a little
bit of everything. I wonder if that’s really a productive
way to go. Some of the most successful LA’s that I’ve
talked to are the ones that have found a niche for
themselves and have really concentrated on that. I
think the generalist landscape architecture firms may
be established by principals who want to be available
to do any job that comes up. Ultimately, I wonder
if that will come to be superficial. I would rather see
people who do a few things, or one thing, really well.
Dig into that specialty and become a national expert
at that one thing.
I know you tried to marry graphics and text, but as editorin-chief, did you have a leaning towards one or the other?
I’m primarily a writer, so that was my main interest.
But I realized that the audience of LAM is professionals
who are very visually oriented. My goal was to give
readers a beautiful layout, but to also give them an
informative layout. Graphics can be very informative
and beautiful, but they can also not say very much.
Using drawings, sketches, and pictures showing how
the site looked before and after the design was finished
can really tell a story.
Going through the magazines that landscape
architecture students typically read, I have noticed that
a lot of publications are moving towards more graphic
representations of our profession. What are your thoughts
on some of these trends towards heavy graphic layouts,
and do you think that it has potential to detract from the
significant issues in these magazines?
With good captions, graphics can tell the story. I
think a danger would be if you’re just trying to create
a splashy layout where the goal is to amaze the reader
and stop there. Amazement is great, and amazing
someone with a graphic presentation is good, but it
needs to be followed up with graphics and captions
that explain how the project evolved, what the issues
were, before and after shots, and so on. To me, layouts
have to tell the story and convey the information that
Alternatively, do you have an opinion on the greatest
strength of our profession as you see it today?
I would say it’s the ability to do what LA’s have
traditionally done, which is to meld environmental
issues and the natural environment with development,
and create places for people to work and to live. Or
acting as a mediator of environmental change, so that
whatever development is done is done with the least
environmental harm and the greatest aesthetic. I think
that landscape architects are emerging as experts, not
just in the kind of environmental knowledge that we
had when I was at UGA, but also in the new sustainable
materials and processes that have come forward in the
last 20 years.
Bill Thompson is officially retired. He is now
writing a landscape-related book focused on
building memorials to national tragedies from
the last decade.
2014 Georgia Landscape
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LESSONS from the LAND
One hot July morning in the summer of 2013, I found myself driving down a
narrow, winding road, dodging potholes, gazing into the distance at the fog rising
out of the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. I was passing fields of sleek black angus
cows cheerfully mowing the grass. Here I was—boots, hat, and Honda—anxious
to finally arrive at Polyface Farm, home of Joel Salatin, the “Christian-libertarianenvironmentalist-capitalist-lunatic” farmer.
10
As I walk toward the smoke rising from fresh scrambling
eggs and sizzling sausage links, I see Mr. Salatin, who greets
me with a smile, welcoming me to Polyface Farm. After
breakfast, we start the day at his open-air chicken-processing
shed. Joel, his son Daniel, and the summer interns show me
how to skillfully slaughter and clean the chickens. It hurts
my feelings some, but I grew up on a farm, so this “ain’t my
first rodeo,” as they say. Besides, they’re scalding the chickens,
then plucking them in the open air—this is essentially how
my Granddaddy learned it from his dad, and how he taught
me. Joel notes what a challenge it was to get his open-air
facility USDA certified. He mentions most slaughter houses
and their need for chemicals and he begins to talk about “the
tail that wags the dog.”
Next, Joel’s son Daniel shows us eager seminar participants
how they butcher his line bred rabbits. They sell the meat
to nearby Washington D.C. restaurants—the competition is
slim in the rabbit business. After skinning the rabbits we
walk a few hundred yards over to the large compost pile and
add the skins to the smelly mound.
As the day goes on, we visit pastures where cows were
grazing just a few days before, but now broilers are being
moved over the field, disturbing the nutrient paddies and
eating the bugs. Joel shares the specifics of the design of his
broiler pens, the economics of the pastured broiler business,
Georgia Landscape 2014
and the challenges of keeping the predators away. Now he’s
not talking about the USDA; he’s talking about the coyotes
that roam the edges of his pastures.
We visit the turkeys and cover Polyface Farm’s marketing
strategy—freeze the turkeys until Thanksgiving. We look in
on the brooder house and Joel explains the eco-community
that thrives in the soil and shavings under the small chicks.
We visit his pastures where the cows are rotated every day,
and he comments, “It’s easy to buy stuff. It’s harder to
manage,” and I think of the pallets among pallets of fertilizer
bags at the feed store at home. He says the trick is finding
the cows that work in these pastures, and I think of how sitespecific the animals are and how each design I’ve worked on
in grad school is the same. There’s not one universal answer
for farming or designing a farm.
Over the next two days, we cover raising rabbits, and
rabbit breeding—by the way, it is OK to breed a father and
daughter, just not a brother and sister—the hoop houses
where they grow vegetables for the family and workers, and
the sidewalk design experiment in one of the houses. We
discuss the economics of the chickens and the value-added
possibilities, and sustainably harvesting the trees on the
mountain, which Joel turns into lumber at his own sawmill
for use in building barns, corrals, and even his son’s house.
Up on the mountain, we visit the happiest pigs I’ve ever
2014 Georgia Landscape
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Photos by Author
12
seen, as they “massage ecology” by disturbing the woods around them, sequestering
carbon, and creating more biomass and food in the process. If you don’t know what
a happy pig looks like, it’s a pig wallowing, walking around oinking, munching on
grass, and maybe even playfully rubbing up against the cute sow beside him. And
the pig’s home smells as fresh as the morning air—and a little bit like money. This
pig and his friends are earning their farmer up to $300 per acre in the forest, land
which is also being used to grow valuable lumber.
Along the way, we check out the ponds that Joel dug for gravity-fed irrigation
after having inventoried 450 acres of woods and selecting the areas they could
sacrifice for a road. He observed the path of rainwater to help select the pond
site, and based the size of the pond on the catchment area. He also dug out precatchment areas to capture the nutrient-rich runoff from the pastures so he could
later redistribute those nutrients over his crops.
Joel also highlights the importance of low-stress cattle handling, and shows us
his corral that he based on Temple Grandin’s designs. Ironically enough, I also
studied Dr. Grandin’s work in the context of a healing gardens studio, where my
classmates and I designed different areas of a camp landscape for autistic children.
While in the corral, Joel shows us the head gate he built to minimize the noise and
Georgia Landscape 2014
stress when cows stick their heads through. He speaks of castrating the bulls and
the birthing of a calf, and explains God’s creative design of the hind end of a cow.
With his hands, he describes how the bones are formed to push the calf out, and
compress its ribs, so that when the calf emerges, its lungs expand and it takes its
first big gulp of air.
During my time at Polyface Farm, we discussed topics that I didn’t previously
relate with the workings of a farm. Several talks focused on marketing, direct sales,
obtaining restaurant accounts, and farmer and consumer relationships. Joel also
emphasized teaching this knowledge to others, especially the younger generation,
as he had several summer interns and two year-round apprentices working and
learning on the farm. He stressed the importance of education and hard work
throughout our two-day seminar.
Our last afternoon on the farm, it was hot and we stopped for a cool drink
of water in the shade of Joel’s big barn. We had a breathtaking view out to the
mountains, and watched a thunderstorm roll in. As the dark clouds built up in the
distance, we learned about the composting regime Joel created in his barn during
the winter to keep his cows happy and warm on bitterly cold Virginia days. We
discussed animals moving our nutrients for us, and I jotted down questions about
planting corn here and moving pigs there, and then running the chickens through,
and how that could eliminate the need for the off-farm corn that supplements his
chicken and pig feed. Then his nutrients would be better balanced, and maybe the
weeds he has noticed in his fields the past few years would go away because there
wouldn’t be “too much goody” in the soil, as he put it. It’s a big design puzzle, and
I, as a landscape architect, feel prepared to take it on.
I went to Polyface knowing that I wanted to focus my thesis research on something
related to farm landscapes and how we can increase sustainability through landscape
design. One issue I’ve always struggled with while designing is the amount of
energy required to build and maintain the design. I hesitate, for instance, to put
in a fountain because of energy consumption and water conservation. I know at
some point we’re going to have to cut our energy usage, due to scarcity and the
negative ramifications of fossil fuels—and I’m very aware of how heavily even our
“organic” operations rely on fossil fuels. For my thesis, I’m tying the two together
and exploring ways to reduce energy consumption in our agricultural landscapes via
landscape design and management.
Albert Einstein once explained, “The wider the diameter of light, the larger
the circumference of darkness.” This sums up my experience at Polyface. My
knowledge expanded, as did my questions. However, there was one thing my visit
reinforced: I love to hunt and I enjoy eating meat, but as I watched the somewhat
large-scale chicken processing, I was reminded of the sacrifice made for every piece
of meat that we consume or discard. I was also reminded that not every farming
and processing operation does this humanely. For me, this means a conviction to
eat meat more responsibly.
Over the two days I was at Polyface, I experienced community, hope, and respect
for the land and others—many of the exact qualities landscape architects desire to
promote in their designs. It was refreshing and surprising. I see what exists, and I
strive to create designs that make it better, in both rural and urban environments.
It seems like the challenges are never-ending in the problems that landscape
architects are charged with addressing. But, this aspiring LA is trying to keep up
the hope. To use a bit of Joel’s language, I want to be the dog that wags the tail. So
when the struggles of today and the worries of tomorrow get you down and you
just can’t get all the stormwater runoff captured and treated, remember that from
the Shenandoah Valley to sunny South Georgia, there are people dreaming, hoping,
sweating, and praying for a better way—for humans, the animals, and the land.
»Liza Taylor, MLA 2014
2014 Georgia Landscape
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Words To Recover The Past:
The Importance of Oral Histories in Historic Preservation
Interviews provide knowledge of the past; oral histories give context to that knowledge. From a historic preservation
perspective, the inclusion of oral histories is vital to the connection between research and primary resources. The
preservation community has much to gain from greater use of oral histories in preservation projects, which allow
access to the stories retained in the minds of people who share a narrative with historic resources.
14
Both of my internships during the summer of 2013 involved conducting oral
histories in Athens, Georgia. In both cases, the oral histories comprised a fairly small
portion of the overall project. I was surprised to find, however, that this seemingly
limited aspect of the work had a massive impact both on my feelings toward the
resources involved and on the final products.
My classmate Reneé Donnell and I surveyed East Athens for the Athens-Clarke
Heritage Foundation’s “Hands On Athens” program. Hands On Athens (HOA)
performs maintenance and repair services for low-income homeowners in several
historic neighborhoods. A majority of the homes given HOA assistance are owned
and occupied by elderly citizens who have witnessed a great deal of change in the
Classic City. In order to document the evolution they’ve seen take place in their
communities, program director John Kissane established a partnership with the
First Person Project to facilitate recorded interviews conducted with the assistance
of the University of Georgia’s Russell Library. In addition to providing access to
recording equipment, the Russell Library archives First Person Project oral histories
for future preservation research.
Our survey work included conducting interviews with homeowners who have
spent their entire lives in Athens. The first interview was with Geneva Blasingame,
a woman in her early sixties who grew up in the Lyndon Town neighborhood, a
thriving African American neighborhood southwest of the Baxter and Lumpkin
Street intersection. In 1964, her family relocated to East Athens when the University
of Georgia acquired all of the homes in the area to construct student dormitories.
Ms. Blasingame traced a route for us through the neighborhood on a 1950 Sanborn
Fire Insurance map, stopping at each house along the street where she grew up to
share a memory of the family that had lived there: the children she would play
with, the gardens that dotted the landscape, and the house where two elderly sisters
lived. Tears came to her eyes as she recreated the neighborhood and surrounding
Georgia Landscape 2014
community from her childhood. She spoke of the experience of being relocated
and how different the perception of community was in her new neighborhood. She
also recalled, as a teenager, being arrested for taking part in a sit-in during the Civil
Rights movement, followed by her father’s conflicted reaction to her involvement
in the protest.
In the course of the hour-long oral history, we heard stories about two Athens
neighborhoods: one currently being preserved, one completely vanished. Ms.
Blasingame’s memories of both communities are equally valuable when it comes to
understanding the story of Athens. The dorms that replaced Lyndon Town are nearing
their fiftieth anniversary of construction, moving them closer towards “historic”
consideration. As they age into historical status, these buildings will play a large part
in the careers of a newer generation of preservationists. To ignore the displacement
and deconstruction of countless midcentury communities when discussing resource
histories is to ignore a vital part of a site’s narrative. How fortunate then that these
events still reside in the memories of living people. Programs like the First Person
Project are essential to capturing the stories before they disappear.
My second survey experience was with the Madison-Morgan Conservancy.
This survey also benefitted greatly from the inclusion of oral histories. The project
included researching and documenting a site on the Little River known as Walton
Mill. Continuous industrial and agricultural activity from the first decade of the
nineteenth century until shortly after World War II made this a fascinating study
in the evolution of the use of river power in the piedmont. The site remains are
scattered across several hundred acres of remote land in southern Morgan County,
the majority of which are evident only in the form of structural foundations: the
piers of a former grist mill, steps leading to the footprint of a former residence, and
chimney stacks marking former homes and barns. Close inspection of the landscape
reveals old roadbeds and the remains of a truss bridge spanning the river.
Much of the project research involved searching deed records at the County
Clerk’s office and tracing chains of title sales from the 1830s. I was also able to
conduct oral history interviews with community members who had lived around
or been frequent visitors to the grist mill in its final decades of operation. These
conversations painted a picture of the mill’s operations in the early twentieth
century, and one source helped locate wall foundations of a mid-nineteenth century
cotton mill. This specific cotton mill was referenced in a newspaper article dating
from the 1860s, and a 1938 aerial photo of the area shows indications of a previous
foundation. However, it was only when an interviewee was able to identify its
specific location and remembered driving past “a row of cotton warehouses” as a
child, that we could be certain that the mill existed and was in use during the 1930s.
The man who made this identification was Floyd Newton, who had grown
up on a farm several miles north of the site. At 14, he hauled corn and wheat
back and forth from nearby farms to the mill to pay for his purchase of a used
grocery truck. He remembered driving that truck over a bridge (now a ruin) to the
existing community and the grist mill, of which no image has yet been found or
documented.
After my conversation with Mr. Newton at his home in Madison, the Executive
Director of the Conservancy, Christine McCauley, and I drove past the spot Mr.
Newton remembered as the site of the warehouses. I returned the next day with
coworker Molly Bogle to survey the thickly-wooded area. Within a few minutes we
encountered a continuous-wall stone foundation only twenty feet from the road,
leading down the slope and right to the water’s edge. The oral history given to us
had been incentive to venture into the growth, allowing us to discover an important
piece of the site’s history that would otherwise have gone unnoticed.
Many recent discussions on the future of historic preservation have focused
on the desire to change the old model of “house museum” preservation, in which
historic buildings and their contents remain frozen in time. Instead, preservationists
and community members alike are broadening their scope and addressing resources
that represent a greater portion of the population. From adaptive reuse to research
on the vernacular architecture of small-scale commercial buildings and historic
roads, it is clear that the resources we consider historic must include structures
that time has, and will continue to, drastically transform over the span of their
existence. My participation in the Conservancy and Hands On Athens projects
has convinced me of the value of oral histories to this new model of preservation,
and I urge considering the worth of their use in future historic resource surveys,
documentation, and rehabilitation projects.
»Laura Duvekot, MHP 2014
Photo courtesy of Richard B. Russell Library
2014 Georgia Landscape
15
Graphics by Author
transposition
Structured Flexibility
Therapeutic Garden Design
for Users With Autism Spectrum Disorder
16
Structured Flexibility was a design investigation
conducted as part of a graduate level design studio in the
falltransposition
2013 semester. It included fifth-year BLA students, as
well as MLA students in their final semester. The studio
focused on healing and therapeutic garden design and
was led by Brad Davis, Associate Professor of Landscape
Architecture.
During the semester, students collaborated with
professional architects and landscape architects from
Perkins + Will’s Atlanta office on a camp master plan
project. During the course of the project, the students
researched and investigated ways of designing for a range
of user groups, including children with Autism Spectrum
Disorder (ASD). This condition encompasses a series of
disorders including autism, Asperger syndrome, pervasive
developmental disorders, childhood disintegrative
disorder, Rett syndrome, and others. According to
the Autism Society, nearly 1.5 million Americans and
Georgia Landscape 2014
approximately 1% of American children live with ASD.
Children diagnosed with ASD typically exhibit social
deficits, communication challenges, repetitive behaviors
and interests, and, sometimes, cognitive delays.
Surprisingly, there is little research in design
considerations and guidelines for user groups with
ASD, particularly when considering landscape design.
Because of this, the studio began with establishing a
core set of considerations and design goals to address an
ASD user group. Although not fully comprehensive, the
findings utilized the research of Roger Ulrich, Rachel
and Stephen Kaplan, and Magda Mostafa among other
ASD researchers. Common concepts found between
these conclusions included the principle that nature
is beneficial to all user groups, particularly those with
medical conditions; the need to accommodate a diverse
set of personalities and interests (no two people with
ASD exhibit the exact same behavior); and the desire for
2014 Georgia Landscape
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“creativity is contagious”
“flexible contained space”
“hyposensitive exterior space”
sensoral
stimuli
level of
user
control
light
sound
security
adaptability
Ulrich’s
theory
movement
control
social support
natural distraction
Kaplan’s
theory
complexity
coherence
legibility
low
mystery
soil
ground
air
“cool down”
and
“warm
up”
areas
of
stimuli.
This
latter
Lastly,
“Air”
is
the
architectural
pavilions themselves,
“contained, flexible exterior space”
“hypersensitive exterior space”
“flexible contained space”
issue may include the careful consideration of material
which are elevated off the ground. These structures offer
texture and color, plant odors, and public/private area
a safe, flexible, enclosed area that can serve as classroom
thresholds.
space, conference space, and even lodging. These pavilions
Taking the studio’s preliminary research into
sport a reflective façade material, suggesting a sense of
consideration, the author chose to design an area within
“hide and seek” within the landscape while challenging
Perkins + Will’s camp master plan described as the “Visual
the diverse range of user preconceptions of architecture.
Arts Complex.” This concept is meant to serve as the center
Overlapping and connecting these three areas is a series of
for arts participation, creation, and education within the
transient walls serving as canvases within the landscape.
camp. This zone’s intent is to accommodate a range of
These walls range in size and material and are intended to
user groups in addition to those with ASD, particularly
be arranged in the landscape to create personal and public
children aged 6-18 and off-season user groups such as
areas based on the user’s bias or interests.
families and researchers. The surrounding landscape is
The trenched area, ground, and pavilions provide a
also laid out to encourage play and interaction, creating
sense of boundary and structure while offering great
the concept of Structured Flexibility.
adaptability and flexibility. The moveable walls also
What, then, does it mean to have a condition of
encourage and catalyze an atmosphere of creativity and
Structured Flexibility? The site sits on a bluff overlooking
process, inherently allowing the users to manipulate
the large meadows that make up most of the camp’s
space to their own liking. On-site architecture offers a
property. Formally, the design responds to the views and
trapezoidal footprint to create varying interior spaces,
topography by cutting into the site in an artistic manner.
flexible ceilings, and adaptable walls.
The design itself provides a primary structure that offers
The overall design applies Ulrich and Kaplan’s theories
secondary and tertiary areas of flexibility, movement, and
to provide both complexity and mystery. The Visual
distraction, which are experienced both sectionally and
Arts Complex is a highly adaptable, flexible, and even
planometrically. These are abstracted as areas of “Dirt,
transient scheme, yet maintains a strong sense of order,
Ground, and Air.” “Dirt” is a trenched circulation area
function, and coherence. The movement across each
providing clear circulation order and flexible programmatic
“zone” provides clearly delineated areas offering a range of
space: a metaphorical area symbolizing “play in the dirt.”
activities meant to accommodate a range of user types, or
“Ground” is the area between circulation trenches where
Structured Flexibility.
separate hyper- and hypo-stimulus areas (cool down and
warm up areas) range from public to more private zones.
»Allen Pratt, MLA 2014
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high
ground
med
air
2014 Georgia Landscape
19
THE
GRID
In a city famous for its adherence to 19th century garden design, one firm is making
an effort to extend the reach of its greenspace with a 21st century approach.
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2014 Georgia Landscape
21
All photos by Robert S. Cooper
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Georgia Landscape 2014
When Verdant Enterprises moved to its new studio office on Henry Street in
Savannah over a year ago, we immediately saw the hidden potential in the weedy
dirt strip in front of our studio. The project spoke to our design firm’s interest
in promoting dynamic and ecologically inspired landscapes. While it was quite a
journey to conceptualize, seek city approval, and install the new landscape, we are
pleased now to be nurturing this linear urban garden.
After settling into the new space, we began observing the 7’ x 82’ street verge
separating the sidewalk from a two-lane, one-way current of rushing cars. A single
trident maple and the shade of a gorgeous live oak were the only existing canopy
elements. We watched as pedestrians passed in zig-zag patterns to cross the street,
and saw with concern how quickly the sidewalk would flood to our doorstep in
heavy storm events. Years of neglect had muddled the interface between soil and
pavement. We noted thirteen species of ruderal weeds, the nest of an irritated
mockingbird, a variety of litter, and heavily compacted soils.
Though Savannah is famous for its landscape of live oaks and azaleas, our goal was
to demonstrate progressive principles in sustainable landscape design and showcase
indigenous plants of the Georgia coast. We focused on creating an all-native, biodiverse landscape that would also function to absorb stormwater while yielding
to the human needs of an urban space. From our observation, we noted distinct
zones of sun and shade and various moisture gradients which could help to inform
representative plant communities. The plan utilizes hardy, native plant material and
subtle grading to control stormwater runoff and increase infiltration. By addressing
stormwater issues and creating a lively garden with sculptural elements, we hope to
engage passersby and improve the urban office experience.
We installed the hardscape and first phase of our planting design this summer.
Tree lawns and tree wells are within the city’s right-of-way, but maintenance and
improvements are left to the responsibility of the individual property owner.
Since our project was in the right-of-way, we were required to submit plans to
the Municipal Planning Commission and apply for an encroachment permit. As
newcomers to the city submittal process, we had not anticipated how cumbersome
and time-consuming it would be for a job of this scale. Nonetheless, many meetings,
revisions, phone calls, and emails later, we had an approved plan and a permit. We
hired a trusted landscape contractor to perform excavation and grading, install the
drainage to the bog, the river rock hardscape, aluminum edging, and the native
trees.
Urban projects, of course, come with their own challenges. We took meticulous
care with underground utilities and coordinated the costly disposal of excavated
soil. We installed valves and a hose bib for irrigation and procured permits for
sidewalk closures. Finally, we carefully pruned the new trees and planted the first
phase of herbaceous plants and native grasses. In spite of flagging utilities, we
managed to spring two leaks in the city water line while planting. Predicaments
aside, we planted over 25 species of native plants and introduced water and stone
elements to the once barren streetscape.
Our firm is two blocks south of Forsyth Park along Bull Street, one of Savannah’s
main historic corridors that boasts a diverse array of businesses, churches, libraries,
schools, and homes. Our linear greenspace is quite different from the pattern of the
Oglethorpe plan—Savannah’s original colonial design, which was a repetitive series of
wards containing central open spaces surrounded by residential lots. The design and
use of this strip of land moves beyond the city’s colonial organization, which creates
discreet and separate spaces, and towards connectivity. In a larger urban context,
our small streetscape serves as another link in extending the garden-like quality of
the historic squares north of Forsyth Park, the terminus of the original Oglethorpe
plan. There have been positive reactions from our neighboring businesses and a
steady stream of pedestrians and Savannah College of Art and Design students
from the nearby fashion school. We believe these landscape improvements will be
a positive visual catalyst for other potential improvements along Henry Street and
the Bull Street corridor.
Beyond the sociological, aesthetic, and, possibly, economic benefits, Verdant’s
streetscape illustrates the value of each greenspace as a component of green
infrastructure. If adjacent street lawns were also converted to collect stormwater
as rain gardens or bioswales and surrounding parking lots were made pervious,
we might ameliorate the flooding from runoff that occurs regularly throughout
Savannah. Though innovative stormwater infrastructure is not a new concept to
landscape architects, it is something that is slowly gaining traction in local and
national legislation.
»Agustina Hein, BLA 2011
The plan utilizes hardy, native plant material and subtle
grading to control stormwater runoff and increase
infiltration, with elements including:
• Four native evergreen trees to complement the existing single trident maple.
• Bands of hardy, native grasses and perennials to replace existing weeds.
• Container plantings installed beside the business façade to soften
the effect of the wide sidewalk.
• A river rock drainage system to collect stormwater from the adjacent sidewalk and convey runoff to a low area backfilled with heavy bog soils and plant species.
• A concrete basin with planted bog species serves as a focal element
within the garden.
• A solar-powered pump will create ambient white noise on axis
with our office door.
2014 Georgia Landscape
23
PEELING BACK
THE LAYERS
Revealing the History of the Salt-Flax House at Old Salem
24
Georgia Landscape 2014
2014 Georgia Landscape
25
Architectural history is often a task of archival and careful deed research. When written sources leave questions
unanswered, architectural history becomes a physical, dirty, and thoroughly hands-on endeavor—one that peels
back layers of additions and modifications to discover the original history hidden within a building’s walls. The
goal of this physical investigation remains one of discovery and academic understanding, allowing the investigator
to establish an intimate connection to the building’s history in a way not possible through archival research alone.
This past summer, I was fortunate to gain hands-on architectural analysis
experience working on the Salt-Flax House for Old Salem in Winston-Salem, North
Carolina. Old Salem is a non-profit organization in Winston-Salem dedicated
to restoring the colonial Moravian town of Salem. Old Salem is unique, in that
beneath 19th and 20th century modifications many of the town’s 1700s structures
remain intact. The Salt-Flax House is one of the last unrestored original structures
in Old Salem. As such, it provides an opportunity to document proof for each phase
of the building’s progression and how it evolved over time.
Today, the Salt-Flax House appears to be a simple Victorian Gothic structure. The
building’s white asbestos tile siding, red tin roof, and Gothic front porch dominate
its appearance and disguise the depth of history embodied within the structure.
Additionally, early 20th century modifications have obscured the building’s earliest
form. Although the building appears to be 20th century, an initial walkthrough
of the structure reveals building traits common to the early 19th century, and
historical research conducted prior to my arrival documents the structure’s original
construction as a one-room shop in 1815.
Although the historical documentation of the Salt-Flax House is limited, it does
provide an idea of the building’s ownership and general use over time. Deed records
create a timeline of ownership and use that aids interpretation when overlaid
with architectural changes. Historic maps of Salem from the 1820s and 1840s,
as well as Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps from 1880s to the 1910s, give a general
idea of the building’s form, but these maps only provide building footprints and
are not necessarily accurate. Extensive records held by the Moravian Church in
Salem also provide information about the Salt-Flax House’s use over time. These
historical documents create a partial story of the Salt-Flax House, but to complete
the building’s architectural history, physical evidence needs to be documented to
ensure that the most accurate story of the building’s past is told.
To provide evidence to support a complete story for the Salt-Flax House, I
examined each element of construction with special attention to points of change
in construction technique and material type. In particular, the framing elements,
tool marks, and finishing materials express how and when key changes were made
to the structure.
26
Georgia Landscape 2014
For the Salt-Flax House, investigating the framing system entailed removing
the early 20th century plaster and lath walls. As I removed portions of the walls,
four distinct periods of framing techniques and materials appeared. This framing
evidence, when combined with historical information, provided a more complete
understanding of the building’s evolution.
The first period, 1815 to c. 1850, was identified by the timber framing consisting
of large timber beams and studs connected with mortise and tenon joints, indicating
its original establishment as a one-room shop. The second period, c. 1850 to c.
1880, included the lean-to addition which was also timber framed, but workers
used different techniques and materials. The lean-to addition marks the building’s
transition from a shop to a residence. The third period, c. 1880 to 1905, consisted of
a southern addition. This addition removed portions of the original timber framing
and expanded the structure using modern framing techniques. The fourth period, c.
1905 to present, included a two-story expansion off the structure’s west side.
The challenge in developing this sequence was interpreting the layering and
overlapping of architectural elements. Each period was identified by sorting out
accretions of framing techniques. The framing techniques provide a general date
range, but examination of tool marks, nail types, and finishing materials enables a
more accurate date to be assigned to each period. Throughout this process, samples
of wood, plaster, wallpaper, and other materials were collected for future analysis.
As part of the final report, all observations were documented and models of each
period were created to provide graphic representation.
This type of architectural analysis not only takes an encyclopedic knowledge of
building materials and architectural typology, but also requires the development
of an eye for specific elements. It is a process of developing hypotheses about the
sequence and history of a building, then testing those theories through examination
of the building for evidence. For example, the uncovering of previously unknown
information through on-site investigation debunked several possible timelines
initially established for the Salt-Flax House. The building’s history, freed from the
20th century façade, finally came to light. The Salt-Flax House can now be better
placed in the framework of Old Salem’s history, providing historical context and
helping to explain the dynamics of Salem’s evolution.
»Jason Aldridge, MHP 2014
Photos by Author
Interior wall of Salt-Flax House, Old Salem, N.C.
2014 Georgia Landscape
27
Cane
Crusades
Photos by Author
28
Georgia Landscape 2014
CE+D alumnus Thomas Peters shares how his certificate
in Native American Studies enriched his academic
experience and is shaping his professional future.
The College of Environment and Design (CE+D) at the University of Georgia
is a dynamic school for landscape architects, preservationists and planners
collaborating across disciplines. Here, students are trained to see the context that
frames their work, where the concept of Place includes both tangible and intangible
characteristics of identity. Graduate certificate programs are an additional benefit
to regular coursework at the CE+D, and offer students the opportunity to take
interdisciplinary studies. Certificate programs include an additional fifteen to
twenty hours of mandatory coursework and focused electives. Through obtaining
graduate certification, students gain recognition for expertise in a discipline that
complements and informs their primary degree.
The Native American Studies (NAMS) graduate certificate program at the
University of Georgia is one such certificate available to CE+D students. The
Institute of Native American Studies, founded in 2004 by Dr. Jace Weaver— a
lawyer, teacher, and author of Cherokee descent—answered the need for a NAMS
initiative in Georgia. The state has a significant Native American heritage, and a
natural contingent—from a number of fields including anthropology, archaeology,
education, English, law, linguistics, and literature—quickly formed in support of
the institute.
For six years, Professor Alfie Vick has been the CE+D’s representative on the
board of the Institute of Native American Studies. When I started graduate research
at UGA, Professor Vick encouraged me to consider the NAMS certification
program. He recognized that my interest in native plants, herbal medicine, and preColumbian landscape architecture indicated a predisposition to indigenous studies.
I knew I wanted to learn more about a part of the American story that public
education often overlooks or misrepresents.
Under the direction of Dr. Weaver, I dove into Native American history, law,
literature, philosophy, and culture. I learned to recognize the relevance of my
cross-disciplinary studies. Exposure to cultural perspectives (polarizing to the more
familiar western foundations of academia) challenged me to set aside preconceived
notions of nature, time, and society. I learned to see the southeastern landscape and
associated natural systems through the philosophical lens of a people whose culture
is inseparable from the places and landscapes of their homelands—lands where,
they believe, they originated and were always meant to remain. Through my studies
I realized that the United States of America is a relatively new society, arguably quite
removed from the landscape.
Traditionally, indigenous cultures are geocentric; that is, intimately tied to
specific places on the land, almost never devoid of geographic reference. Native
epistemology places emphasis on maintaining balance in spirit as well as in
Cane rhizomes allow for soil structure along the riparian corridor
relationships with other life forms and systems, embracing a cyclical perspective
concerning life and eternity. Exposure to Native America through the Institute of
Native American Studies broadened my understanding of culture and place-making.
And it was while taking Professor Vick’s summer course, Plant Communities and
Literature of the Trail of Tears, that my research interests coalesced into a single
initiative: saving an endangered cultural landscape.
During this course I attended a “State of Cane” symposium spearheaded by the
Cherokee Preservation Foundation and I heard for the first time about rivercane,
the only bamboo native to North America. The Cherokee people have long valued
rivercane as a culturally significant plant. Before European settlement, rivercane
blanketed much of the floodplain and bottomlands across the Southeast, but
disappeared as habitat was acquisitioned for livestock and agriculture through
methods of damming, channelizing, and otherwise altering floodplain ecosystems.
Today, Cherokee basket weavers and traditional artists continue using cane to
support traditional art forms despite increasing scarcity.
In ideal conditions, cane forms vast monotypic thickets, or “canebrakes,” that are
hardly penetrable. Outperforming almost any other vegetation type in floodplain
ecosystem services, canebrake makes an ideal riparian buffer, supporting a variety of
wildlife including several endangered species. The matted root structure effectively
stabilizes floodplain soils, increases infiltration rates, and builds soil quality. It
improves groundwater quality by reducing sediment loads from agricultural and
stormwater runoff. The subsequent pollutant mitigation through phytoremediation,
shading stream banks with evergreen foliage, and consistently depositing organic
matter can greatly improve macro-invertebrate and fish habitats.
Many obstacles have yet to be resolved with rivercane propagation and canebrake
management. Little work has been done with canebrake ecosystems, and many
questions remain unanswered about the nuances of canebrake ecology. Furthermore,
the emerging field of canebrake restoration has few practitioners, most of whom are
approaching the science from a single perspective rather than a background well
versed in cultural, ecological, and horticultural variables. As a holistic practitioner
of the science, I’ve attempted to augment current gaps in the body of research by
developing close relationships with fellow practitioners in the field. Since initiating
my research, I have developed a viable propagation methodology, discovered the
importance of a fungal symbiont (mycorrhizae), and observed several rare flowering
events where I gathered and grew viable seed. I am now actively growing cane
sourced from across the region and using my work to initiate the formation of a
national rivercane advocacy group.
My experience is only one example of how the Institute of Native American
Studies can enrich the lives of CE+D students. The cultural and historical context
developed through this course of study can be a critical variable in the design process.
I found Native American Studies to be an appropriate and valuable complement
to my course of study at the CE+D, and I encourage fellow landscape managers,
planners, designers, and preservationists to take advantage of the opportunities
offered by the NAMS certificate program.
»Thomas Peters, MLA 2013
2014 Georgia Landscape
29
Imbuto I
I Seed: Backyard Diversity
Many people travel the world seeking insight into its
rich tapestry of cultures—cultures that continuously
mold the environments in which they dwell.
Thomas Winslow Photography
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Georgia Landscape 2014
I was fortunate to have several enriching international experiences while studying
at the CE+D, but I have since discovered the cultural diversity within my own
backyard as the Garden Coordinator for Multicultural Refugee Coalition (MRC)
in Austin, Texas. Through my work at MRC I have recognized the role that gardens
can play in creating new opportunities for Austin’s refugees by promoting cultural
discovery, city fabric, and new partnerships.
Austin is a rapidly growing city, constantly attracting new residents and visitors
with its warm climate, vibrant culture, and myriad festivals; but some new residents
had no choice in Austin as their destination. In 2013, over 1,000 of the world’s most
vulnerable people—refugees from countries such as Bhutan, Burma, Iraq, Cuba,
and Iran—legally resettled in Austin, Texas. As many left everything they owned to
flee their native homes for a safe haven, they are rebuilding their lives in the United
States from the ground up. Multicultural Refugee Coalition was founded to avert
a prevalent trajectory towards poverty and isolation amongst Austin’s refugees, and
provide a range of programs to bridge the end of government support and longterm self-sufficiency through education, community building, and reconciliation.
One of MRC’s hallmark programs is a Refugee Garden just east of downtown
Austin, where 24 Bhutanese and Burundian gardeners grow fresh, culturally-unique
crops that feed over 100 refugee family and community members. Multicultural
Refugee Coalition’s gardeners note the garden’s role in keeping their cultural farming
and food traditions alive. In the garden, they grow crops necessary for traditional
cooking flavors, and multiple generations grow and cook side by side. Additionally,
the gardeners’ physical and mental health is buoyed by the fresh produce, outdoor
recreation otherwise lacking in apartment communities, and a supportive, social,
community gardening environment.
As the national movement to improve the quality and supply of food grows,
refugee support organizations across the country have recognized the benefits of
agriculture for refugee populations. Despite spending decades in refugee camps
prior to resettlement, MRC’s gardeners bring a wealth of experience as occupational
farmers, and have deep knowledge—passed down through generations—of how
to grow food with the simplest resources. As this knowledge has been largely lost
within the American population, we can draw upon the vast span of cultures and
traditions represented by our refugee population, and lean on their experience with
saving seeds, managing compost, traditional growing methods, and diversified
crop varieties. We can assist in the successful adaption of time-honed techniques
from around the globe to our environmental conditions, simultaneously improving
our own local practices and providing refugees with a way to be self-sufficient and
involved in a new society.
In order to better meet the needs of the Austin refugee population MRC is
looking for a new home for its Garden Program. With a larger piece of land, at least
two acres, the current gardeners could provide more food for their families and also
produce a surplus to sell—further engaging the refugees and the city of Austin, and
building a connection to local communities. For MRC, a bigger garden means a
chance to welcome more of the ever-growing refugee population into the program.
In the search for a successful new garden location, connectivity of the gardeners to
the site takes primary consideration. Our gardener population is largely dependent
on city buses for transportation, typically spending up to $4.00 and two hours
on travel to reach their MRC garden each day. The current commuting situation
reduces the amount of time gardeners can spend nurturing their gardens and keeps
them away from their own communities; a garden in the refugees’ neighborhood
would build community at home. Recognizing the innate challenges of longdistance commute between home and garden and the value of building community
at home, MRC is focusing on partnerships to source land creatively within the
refugees’ neighborhood.
The following options reflect unique opportunities for partnership for MRC.
Urban patchwork of growing spaces—a local non-profit focuses on utilizing a
patchwork of private land for agricultural use. City land—Austin’s government
supports matching under-utilized city land with community gardens; unfortunately,
land that is currently open in the target area is unavailable or unsafe. Public
Schools—a partnership with a Future Farmers of America (FFA) program at a local
high school would locate growing space within the community at a school already
attended by many refugee children. A partnership would reinforce the community
connection to the walk-able site, make use of under-utilized campus land, and
provide opportunities to partner with existing agricultural facilities and educational
knowledge.
Multicultural Refugee Coalition is fortunate to be a part of a community that
enthusiastically supports its endeavor to increase agricultural access for refugees. It
is exciting to unlock greater opportunities and know that our new garden is about
the people who will continue traditions as they connect to their new place, build
community, and learn to thrive again.
»Lindsey Hutchison, MLA 2011
2014 Georgia Landscape
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Planting Design
Lessons from Peter Janke and the Implications
for Landscape Architecture
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This summer Andrew Bailey and Thomas Baker traveled together and visited the gardens of renowned planting
designers such as Beth Chatto, Christopher Lloyd, Mein Ruys, Piet Oudolf, and Peter Janke. Moreover, in three
weeks time, they were able to visit over 20 gardens in four different countries, from André Le Nôtre’s gardens of
Versailles to intimate, personal gardens in England. The gardens of Peter Janke near Hilden, Germany were the
most memorable of their trip, and their conversation with the designer was an education in planting design.
INTRODUCTION: Planting design is an area within landscape architecture
that has fallen out of popular focus in recent years. As landscape architects explore
and expand into new areas of practice, they are met with the challenge of explaining
their profession to a world that hears the word “landscape” and automatically thinks
“landscaper.” As a result, many practitioners make it clear that their practice has
nothing to do with plants and planting design. While this is true in a number of
offices, planting design remains inextricably linked to the profession.
Planting design, as it currently exists within the field, is limited by design trends
but also by a lack of specialized knowledge. Large corporate firms generate projects
which place increased focus on built structures and relegate plant material to tertiary
status. As a result, there has been a trend towards the simplification of plantings in
public greenspace to mainly trees and large expanses of mown lawn. Furthermore,
current students of landscape architecture are only provided a cursory education
of plants and planting design. This is understandable due to the limited timeframe
that educators possess to bestow the balance of theory and technical knowledge
essential to the practice and advancement of a complex and dynamic profession.
Consequently, firms increasingly rely on specialized individuals and outside
consultants for projects that aim to achieve a more naturalistic aesthetic. This trend
is exemplified by The High Line, and Field Operations’ decision to contract master
plantsman Piet Oudolf for the planting design. The High Line has become the
poster child for contemporary landscape architecture projects, and much of this
attention is due to the dynamic plant combinations that create opportunities for
people to engage with nature in an urban setting.
Pondering the future in light of these trends and challenges, it may not be
appropriate for all students and practitioners to become experts in planting design
in a field as broad as landscape architecture. There is certainly an opportunity for
more interdisciplinary collaboration with horticulturalists on specialized projects,
but for landscape architects we advocate a deeper understanding of the importance
of plant material as a tool in creating functional and meaningful landscapes. In
order to further research this interest, we traveled together through Europe, visiting
the gardens of renowned planting designers such as Beth Chatto, Christopher
Lloyd, Mien Ruys, Piet Oudolf, and Peter Janke. In three weeks, we were able to
visit over 20 gardens in four different countries, seeing projects ranging from André
Le Nôtre’s gardens at Versailles to intimate, private gardens in England. The gardens
of Peter Janke near Hilden, Germany were the most memorable of our trip, and our
conversation with the designer was an education in planting design.
THE DESIGNER: Peter Janke is a leading figure in the contemporary, German
garden design scene. He is a tall, wiry character, who is surprisingly young for such
a long career as a prolific writer. His books on planting design, only published in
German to date, have seen great success and have elevated Janke to a celebrity status
amongst German garden enthusiasts. His plant-driven style is focused on function
as well as beauty. Over coffee and cigarettes, Janke discussed his garden philosophy
and approach to design. He is interested in the emotional and experiential nature
that plants provide in the garden, and strives to “design a garden that you want to
be in rather than merely look at.” Describing his work, Janke claims, “It is possible
to have a garden that looks like Claude Monet in summer and Georges Braque
in winter.” He spoke of a desire to reclaim a “German garden identity” through
his work, and build up a national style and pride that largely disappeared in the
wake of World War II. He said, “everyone wants an Italian, French, or English style
garden—nobody wants a German garden,” but Janke is doing his best to change
that.
STYLE + INFLUENCE: From visiting only Janke’s personal garden, it is
difficult to analyze what is distinctly German about his design style. The garden
is a contemporary re-contextualization of Baroque, English, Dutch, and German
garden styles. The space elegantly juxtaposes both formal and informal design
through layout and plantings. He draws heavily upon classic proportion and axial
organization, yet remains dynamic in his use of European modern principles.
Janke’s influences and inspirations can be traced to several practitioners and
styles. His British mentor, Beth Chatto, is an internationally renowned garden
designer and writer who gained popularity for designs focused on plant form and
line rather than color. Janke’s firm belief in the “right plant, right place” philosophy,
most likely attributed to his time spent working for Chatto in Essex, can be seen
in the development and overall character of his plantings and individual garden
spaces. In addition to Chatto, Janke was influenced by Ernst Pagels, the famous
Dutch nurseryman responsible for creating hybrids that are household names in the
Dutch Wave perennial movement lead by Piet Oudolf.
Janke also finds inspiration closer to home. While most people associate
perennial planting design with Holland and England, Germany has a rich history
2014 Georgia Landscape
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of practitioners who have researched and published on the subject. Writers such
as Wolfgang Borchardt, Richard Hansen, Friedrich Stahl, and Norbert Kühn have
written key works in naturalistic planting design—Janke’s attempts to define a
new “German garden identity” have no doubt been preceded and assisted through
their work. It is particularly likely that the Lebensbereich Style, a uniquely German
movement headed by Richard Hansen, influenced Janke’s planting philosophy.
Lebensbereich, meaning “living space,” focuses on pairing plants in common
ecological growing conditions, a philosophy evident throughout Janke’s gardens.
THE GARDEN: Every aspect of Janke’s property has an understated elegance,
making it difficult to discern where the design starts and stops. Large evergreen
hedges screen the front of the property, creating an instant transformation upon
entering through the gate. The narrow driveway is lined with tightly clipped Buxus
hedges that are highlighted by a graceful form of Verbena bonariensis massings,
punctuated by an allée of Italian Cypress (Cupressus sempervirens). Walking through
the garden, the diverse and artfully placed plantings play the dominant role in
shaping the atmosphere and mood of the garden. The axial layout divides the
garden into individual spaces that include the Chatto-inspired gravel garden, a
moat garden, a meadow garden, a display garden, and the woodland garden.
The woodland garden lies along the back edge of the property where mature
stands of oak, beech, and hornbeam set the stage for the plantings below. The
garden is cool and wet, and the summer rain illuminates the striking foliage of the
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plantings during our visit. As you enter the woodland garden, the spectrum of light
shifts towards darker, cooler tones. The temperature drops as visitors wind through
informal, mulched paths, edged with an artful tapestry of foliage that ebbs and
flows creating rhythm and interest. Janke uses a gradient of small trees, shrubs, and
large perennials to aid in the transition down in scale, and the transition to human
scale is more greatly affected by the intricate ground plantings. The mature forest
and views through lush foliage out to ponds and open meadow create context and
aid the visual periphery, but it is the low plantings that capture the attention of the
user, constantly redirecting attention downward, and perhaps inward.
Janke’s use of contrast and juxtaposition is an apparent theme and beautifully
illustrated in his plantings. The garden mixes and matches textures, tones, and
forms in artful ways that distill the beauty and character of each individual plant.
The plantings take advantage of every available inch of space, meshing into one
another to emphasize dynamic relationships. The woodland garden in particular
utilizes contrasting texture and tone beautifully. Variegated Hostas reflect light and
are grouped with colorful Heucheras, fine-leaved Actaeas, drifts of textured ferns,
and accents of the chestnut-leaved Rodgersia aesculifolia. The sheer number of plant
species in the garden is quite awe-inspiring. Janke’s garden is very much a plant
collector’s garden, and he blends his collection seamlessly into the rhythm and
continuity of the design.
LOOKING TO THE FUTURE: Regarding the future of gardening, when
we asked Janke if he designed his garden based upon principles of ecology, he
replied, “no,” but he went on to make several interesting points that indicated
he may be more mindful of ecology than he realizes. He believes strongly in the
“right plant, right place” philosophy, which situates plants and plant communities
in areas where they are best adapted. His design separates the garden into distinct
areas based on the characteristics of the site. The gravel garden is in a dry, full-sun
area of the property, while the woodland garden is situated along the forest edge,
utilizing channels and ponds to control the large amounts of stormwater drainage.
In each area, the plantings have been developed to reflect the characteristics of the
site, which is a more sustainable approach to planting design. Additionally, Janke
stressed the importance of going out into nature and learning from natural plant
communities, and he advocates an approach that uses nature as guide for how to
combine plants in the garden.
Janke also mentioned that while designing for ecology is not his primary goal,
he is very aware of how his plantings impact insects and wildlife. Like many other
European gardeners, Janke does not believe in a “native only” approach to planting
design. He specifically referenced a stand of bamboo, obviously not a German
native, which was planted behind where we sat for tea. He reported that in the first
year, he noticed that the birds did not seem to use the plant. In the second year, the
birds learned to eat small insects living on the plants. In the third year, he reported
that they were building nests in the bamboo. His point is that of structure and
analogue—the bamboo serves as a structure that could provide similar functions
to other native species. The plant adapted to its new conditions, as did the birds.
Janke’s comments regarding ecology bring up several important issues
concerning landscape architecture and contemporary planting design. Perhaps
the most important and well publicized of which is the debate over native-only
vegetation protocols. Another interesting point stems from Janke’s comment about
gleaning his inspiration from nature. His very “natural” or “naturally inspired”
style of planting design perhaps influences an increased ecological perception of
his work. This is a trend that is being seen with the work of designers such as
Piet Oudolf and Wolfgang Oehme and James van Sweden. Their work is perceived
by the public as primarily ecological and “natural,” which, perhaps, incorrectly
categorizes their genre. Parts of Janke’s designs lend themselves to be perceived by
the public as very natural, and thus sustainable and ecological. Janke’s garden, which
is meticulously maintained by a team of gardeners, may or may not have positive
ecological benefits. But if the public perceives this style of planting positively, then
there is an opportunity to leverage “natural” planting designs, such as Janke’s, to
gain support for larger ecological, educational, and social objectives. Therefore,
Janke’s work may have the potential to influence far more than the realms of garden
design and horticulture.
»Andrew Bailey, MLA 2014
»Thomas Baker, MLA 2015
2014 Georgia Landscape
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Sketches by Thomas Baker
For many architects and designers, travel sketchbooks are a means of cataloguing
their own growth by capturing the work of others. My sketchbook was the center
of my work and travels this past summer, and serves as a record of self-education
in drawing and painting. Its pages document personal memories, fragments of
conversations, design observations, and detailed sketches from my travels through
six European countries. The experience not only improved my sketching skills,
but also taught me to be a careful observer—training my eye to see landscapes
through a new lens. In the course of my European journey, I realized drawing is
not merely a means of communication in our profession; it is also the center of
creative thinking essential to the discovery of new ideas early in the design process.
My travel sketchbook practices improved on-site drawing and honed my design
sensibilities. More importantly, the drawings became more than ink-on-paper; they
helped me to see the landscape more genuinely while incorporating reflection and
understanding into the actual design process.
There are elements of drawing and painting that translate well into landscape
design and formal resolution. In particular, I learned lessons in simplicity, abstraction,
restraint, spontaneity, fusion or overlapping of shapes, and the importance of light.
I now notice great improvement in my sketching speed and accuracy, which helps
in both the schematic design and illustrative phases of my work. This skill helps my
creative process through the quantity of ideas I can generate. Before my travels, I
primarily developed concept sketches in plan view. Now I find myself designing in
section and perspective vignettes. Through exploring pencil, pen, and watercolor
media I gained new confidence in my work and the capacity to be loose. This
newfound freedom improves my workflow and allows me to spend more time
designing and less time in the computer lab.
Ultimately, the summer led to the discovery of my own personal design aesthetic
and empowered me with the confidence to use freehand sketching in my design
process. My experiences of the European landscapes are embedded in me, mentally
Photos by Andrew Bailey
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2014 Georgia Landscape
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and physically. I can now feel the experience of viewing a particular park or boulevard
when I look at my drawings. This skill allows a designer to see both big picture and
minute details simultaneously, a valuable tool for site visits and analysis. The act
of sketching on-site is important to fluency in the creative process and strengthens
the mind’s eye to imagine the possibilities of big ideas, helping to communicate
your perception of the place. While the camera is a great tool for documentation,
the landscape experience can feel remote through a lens. Drawing puts you in the
Advice from Thomas
• Draw more, render less. This will improve line energy and confidence to
command the shape. Sketching on-site is about quickly capturing a space’s essence
and feel while giving just enough detail to make it readable.
• Don’t get bogged down with details. We are in the business of simplifying
graphics, and, for many, time is money.
• Draw comfortably. You’re on the way to developing a personal style if it feels
natural.
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landscape; this sensation does not occur when clicking a mouse or dragging an
object across a computer screen. When I look back through my sketchbook, I see
countless memories of the places I discovered and the chronological development
of my hand graphic skills. Furthermore, each drawing is a piece of a pattern and a
projection of what I find most interesting in the landscape.
»Thomas Baker, MLA 2015
• Think about your tools. Sharpen pencils often and challenge yourself to explore
new tools, subject matter, and graphic styles.
• Don’t be scared. Many people are afraid to waste paper or put their pencil to
the page—don’t be. Draw in gestural, sweeping motions and focus on line quality
rather than accuracy. Remember that landscape architects have an old tradition of
designing on napkins.
• Doodle and daydream. Try adding emotion or animation to ordinary objects.
You’ll be surprised with the results.
2014 Georgia Landscape
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All Photos by Russell Oliver
Watch the Process: youtube/cedatuga
VERTICAL CHARRETTE
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The vertical charrette, held at the
CE+D in fall 2013, was an intense
rapid design process that combined
students from all levels: Masters of
Landscape Architecture, Bachelors of
Landscape Architecture, and Masters
of Environmental Planning + Design.
The week long interdisciplinary
project focused on the Atlanta
Highway corridor, a two-mile
site. 180 students divided into
sixteen teams to study different
aspects of the site “from grayfield
to greenfield.” Topics included land
use, blight, traditional neighborhood
development, greenways for bicycles
and pedestrians, streetscapes, signage,
light rail, highway beautification,
green infrastructure, stormwater
management, stream restoration, and
the environmental future of the area.
Creating guidelines for future
development based on current
needs and everyday issues—from
beautification, to walkability, to a
community improvement district—
helped students design and present
ideas and plans to make a difference.
The talents of the CE+D came
together to produce sixteen final
designs from various angles of the
region as different ways to approach
the same problem. The vertical
element of the charrette helped
students from all levels work together
and students from other disciplines to
see related elements. Students could
take on roles as project managers or
designers to work on solutions. The
focused effort created realistic designs
and goals.
2014 Georgia Landscape
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Circle Gallery
Schema
Breaking Dormancy
August 15, 2013
Paintings by Cheryl Goldsleger
October 13, 2013
Landscapes Near and Far
November 21, 2013
Wrack & Ruin & the Creative Response:
A Cautionary Environmental Tale
February 6, 2014
Writing the Landscape: Books, Films, & Exhibits from
the Library of American Landscape History
March 20, 2014
BLA Exit Show
May 2-9, 2014
CE+D
Lecture Series
Wes Michaels
September 12, 2013
David Sanderson
October 17, 2013
HGOR Lecture—Charles Fishman
November 20, 2013
Terry Ryan, FASLA and partner
at Jacobs/Ryan Associates
January 15, 2014
Upcoming
Annual Alumni Weekend
March 28-29, 2014
Events
Founders Memorial Garden
Exhibit in the Special Collections Library
April 11, 2014
UGA Honors Week
April 14-18, 2014
Black, White, and Diamonds:
The 75th Annivesary Jubilee
for the Founders Memorial Garden
May 15, 2014
Charrettes
Rocksprings-Brooklyn Neighborhood
Athens GA | February 22-24, 2013
LABASH design-build charrette
Athens GA | March 20-23, 2013
UGA East Campus Circulation Planning
Athens GA | April 12-14, 2013
Fairmont Community Design Workshop
Griffin GA | October 25-27, 2013
Bethel Midtown Village Homes
Athens GA | Nov 15-17, 2013
Wrack and Ruin Circle Gallery Exhibition
Photo by Shruti Agrawal
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Georgia Landscape 2014
Photo by Russell Oliver
Center for Hard to Recycle Materials (CHaRM)
Athens GA | February 7-9, 2014
2014 Georgia Landscape
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Historic Preservation
Graduate I Theses and Practicums
Spring I Summer I Fall 2013
Environmental Planning and Design
Marc Beechuk. Northeast Georgia Regional Food Network Analysis
Sanhita Bhargva. Creating Transit Oriented Development Plan Guidelines: A Transit Oriented Development Plan For Downtown North End Extension, Athens, GA
Heather Blaikie. Green Infrastructure Planning in Utica, NY
Ning Chen. Reclaim Authentic Character for a Historic City Center Using Infill Development Strategy (practicum)
Summer Constantino. Environmental Planning For The Platypus In Climate Change
Justin Crighton. Assessing The Feasibility Of Establishing A Tax Allocation District In Downtown Athens, Georgia
Sara Farr. A Public Art And Stormwater Plan For The River Arts District In Asheville, North Carolina
Vivian Foster. Understanding GIS applications with Suitability and Critical Areas Analysis in Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia (Practicum)
Hunter Garrison. Planning and Design For A Bicycle And Pedestrian Bridge In Athens Georgia
Zongni Gu. Integrating 3D Visualization In East Athens Downtown Greenway Project (practicum)
Tunan Hu. The Transit-oriented Redevelopment For Athens' Georgia Square Mall
John Page. Urban Stream Enhancement: A Conceptual Design for Tanyard Creek's Upper Reaches
Scott Pippin. The Clean Water Act As A Driver For Local Government Planning For Green Stormwater Infrastructure and High Performance Landscapes
Wick Prichard. Giving Precedence to Marsh Migration in Sea Level Rise Planning on the Georgia Coast
John Tankard. Rehabilitation and Reconfiguration of College Square (practicum)
David Thompson. The Contextual Design Of An Arboretum At The Georgia Mountain Branch Experiment Station Blairsville, Georgia
Jordan Tubbs. Reconnecting Downtown Athens to the North Oconee River: A Greenway Plan (practicum)
Cameron Yearty. Preserve, Promote, and Plan: A Proposal for Downtown Cochran, Georgia
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Georgia Landscape 2014
Caroline Alex. Who Was Taking Care of Whom: A Slavery Interpretation Plan for The T.R.R. Cobb House Museum
Raffi Andonian. Nuclear History: Debating the Meanings of the Manhattan Project National Historical Park
Jennifer Bailey. Knoxville, Tennessee’s World’s Fair Park And Festival Center: How A Park Preserves The Use Of Energy EXPO’ 82 As A Planning Tool For Urban Renewal
Cindy Bradley. Rolling the Dice in Colorado: A Look at Gambilng and Its Impact on the Historic Mining Towns of Central City and Black Hawk
Sean Dunlap. The World In a Tomato Seed: Historic Agricultural Sites & Place-Based Environmental Ethics
Jamee Fiore. Cultural Routes And U.S. Preservation Policy
Catherine Garner. Biking Through History: The Relationship Between Historic Preservation, Economic Development and Bicycle Trails
Tom Jones. The Eagle Has Landed: A Preservation Ethic for Off-Planet Cultural Resouces
Danielle Kahler. Preservation Begins at Home
Lilly Miller. Preserving Calistoga: A Management Framework For A Living Landscape In The Napa Valley
Nick Patrick. Preservation Construction Productivity: Design Build Versus Design Bid Build
Kally Revels. The New Home Place: The Case For Historic Site Interpretation in New Residential Development
Laura Schuetz. The Franklinton Center At Bricks: Historic Cultural Landscape Guiding Future Conservation And Development
Landscape Architecture
Shannon Barrett. Climate Change and Historic Trees: Adaptive Strategies for Land Managers
Lisa Biddle. The Uses of Green Infrastructure to Adapt to Sea Level Rise on the Georgia Coast: A Design Application Along the Historic Brunswick- Altamaha Canal
Mario Cambardella. Food-producing landscape design safety considerations in the peri-urban development of East Village Monroe
Blake Conant. Bankrupt Golf Courses: An Historical Analysis and Strategies for Repurposing
Ethan Gray. Resilient community in an era of abandon
Jessica Higgins. Deathscapes: Designing Contemporary Landscapes to Solve Modern Issues in Cemeteries
Yuan Hong. Retrofitting a Creative Park Using Feng Shui Theory: M50 Shanghi, China
Sean Hufnagel. The Great Commission of Church Landscapes
Clyde Johnson. PLACE-SPECIFIC GOLF COURSE ARCHITECTURE: GUIDELINES FOR GOLF COURSE DEVELOPMENT IN EMERGING MARKETS
Jonathan Korman. Phytoremedic Rain Gardens: Residential Applications in the Piedmont Region of The Southeastern United States
Jing Liu. Landscape Architecture, Approaches Toward Post-Industrial Sites: A Design Proposal for Mixed-Use Use Redevelopment of Atlanta Ford Assembly Plant
Thomas Peters. Floodplain Restoration at the State Botanical Gardens of Georgia: An Adaptive Management Approach Integrating Canebrake Ecosystem Services
Lindsay Reynolds. Improving Avian Diversity in Urban Areas Through Design and Planning: A Systematic Review of Relevant Literature to Inform Evidence-Based Practice
Diane Silva. Golden Years and Public Greens: Designing Outdoor Gyms for Older Adults
Andrew Spatz. Trickle Down Landscape Architecture: How Harnessing the Influence of an Elite Demographic can Facilitate a Change in the Perception of Naturalistic
Landscape Within the General Public
Yifan Sun. Principles for Contemporary Chinese Landscape Design Practice
Tum Suppakitpaisarn. Human Behaviors in Modern Campus Lunch Landscapes
DaShan Williams. Greenways And Trail Use: Influences Of The Neighborhood Environment
2014 Georgia Landscape
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CE+D Graduate Student Workshop Series
The Graduate Workshop Series is a student-run initiative within the College of Environment and Design aimed
at giving graduate students exposure to the most contemporary and compelling expressions of design and graphic
representation.
The genesis of the workshop was to respond to the continually evolving nature
of representation and how to best place ourselves as graduate students into that
conversation—not merely as observers, but as active contributors. It involves faculty,
students, and staff within the college substantively engaging with the question,
“How does design speak to the issues we must confront today and tomorrow?” The
Graduate Workshop Series is focused upon giving students skill sets to innovate
fresh, evocative, and compelling ways of helping people see the world—see truth—
in and through their designs.
The inaugural workshops began during the fall semester of 2013. Workshops
ranged from capturing site dynamics through film to new approaches in digital
modeling. The first two workshops used film as an instrument of design to introduce
skill sets focused on depicting change in time through timelapse, hyperlapse, and
video infographics.
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Most recently, Wei Chen, project designer for Tom Leader Studio, San Francisco,
California, led a photo photomontage two-day workshop in hybridized analog and
digital rendering. This workshop focused on using collage as a means to juxtapose
different conceptual possibilities on a site. Additionally, advanced workflows in
rendering and animation techniques were taught.
As the Graduate Workshop Series continues, its mission is to catalyze conversation
and work surrounding new ways of visualizing throughout the design process. In
doing so, the workshop hopes to create another current of innovation within the
College of Environment and Design.
»Byron Brigham George, MLA 2014
All Photos by Russell Oliver
2014 Georgia Landscape
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The Art of an Opportunity
Here’s one. If you could create your own job title,
what would it be? Would it reflect the job, or you?
48
I’ve been the Director of Development here
at the College of Environment and Design
for seven years, and it is an OK title, albeit
rather cold—definitely not a reflection of the
person in the job. So, if I could create my own
job title, I’d want it to be something warmer,
which would describe what we really do in
fundraising and development. From here on
out, I’ll be the Ambassador of Opportunity.
Philanthropy is an opportunity. There’s
the opportunity to meet an urgent need at
the College, or the opportunity to create,
innovate, or expand in a new direction—or
even leave your Legacy. The opportunities to
Give are endless.
Just this year, BLA ’72 alumnus Dave
Rodgers took the opportunity to reach out
to UGA with the idea of providing support
for the Cortona program, an educational
experience he relished. In working with both
the Lamar Dodd School of Art and the CE+D,
Dave and the Coker Creek Trust created two
new scholarships for study abroad in Cortona.
Dave took the opportunity further in speaking
with his good friend and senior project-mate,
BLA ’72 Randy Marshall, to tell him the joy
of his giving endeavor. This inspired Randy,
who then took the opportunity to create his
second endowment, the Randy and Helen
Marshall International Studies Scholarship.
But the opportunity grows further, as Randy
took to asking his clients to make donations
in his honor, and within three months his
scholarship was fulfilled and is expanding still.
The move to Jackson Street has been a great
opportunity for CE+D, and we have been
Georgia Landscape 2014
given the chance to name rooms, studios,
and features within the building as a means
to raise additional funding for academics and
expansion. Alumni, parents, faculty, and staff
are taking the opportunity to name seats in
the auditoriums, such as MLA ’02 alumnus
Josh Tiller, who named one in honor of
his father, alumnus MLA ’73 James Tiller,
FASLA. Parents have named for newly
graduating students, staff for retiring faculty—
it’s a wonderful gesture and tribute. Plus we
now have even more opportunities with the
75th anniversary of the Founders Memorial
Garden, in celebrating and raising national
awareness for this amazing, historic landscape.
And here, in the pages of this Georgia
Landscape, students have taken the
opportunity to put together a tribute to their
art, their science, and their education. They
have brought together stories of inspiration,
innovation, and determination. And you
have taken the opportunity to read and reflect.
There is now an opportunity for you to give
your feedback, or even give to support this
publication and your alma mater: whether by
word, involvement, or donation, the ways you
can Give are indeed endless.
Thank you for making an inspirational
difference!
»Stephanie L. Crockatt,
Ambassador of Opportunity
706-542-4727
crockatt@uga.edu
Visit www.ced.uga.edu for giving opportunities
Georgia Landscape is a student publication issued annually by the College of
Environment and Design at the University of Georgia. No portion of this magazine
may be reproduced without permission from the editor and all uses must be in
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necessarily reflect the opinions of the college and its administration.
Georgia Landscape takes great pride in using sustainable printing
practices. The 2014 edition is produced using the following
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Soy-based inks that can be more readily removed from paper.
These inks degrade more than four times as completely as
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Alcohol-free dampening solutions contain zero isopropyl alchohol,
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Sappi Flow Paper contains 10% post-consumer recovered fiber
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100% of the electricity used to manufacture this paper is matched
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